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whenimaunicorn · 2 years

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The Heart of Admiration - Part 10

After a long hiatus, inspiration appears, and I’m ready to bring this fic to its conclusion. Here is the penultimate chapter! Catch up first here

Hope marks the scent first; something heady yet familiar wafting up from the pillow her face is half-buried in. The smell of him pulls her consciousness out of sleep. Her eyes snap open to an empty cabin illuminated by golden morning light.

She checks the floor, but he’s gone. She rolls onto her back, languid despite her annoyance that he would let her sleep in well past the dawn.

What if he left because he didn’t want to face her?

It’s a silly fear. She pushes it to the side. After what he said to her last night, and the way that he held her . . . of the two of them, it’s not him that’s having hesitations.

She’d kissed him. Oh, God, and what a kiss it was. She’d planned to leave herself room to make a careful, level-headed decision in the light of day, but now she can’t think of anything but the press of his lips, the tender strength of his touch. If she just stayed here in his bed, how long would it take him to come back, looking for her? And what might happen after that?

Another silly thought. Hope’s pride won’t allow her to lay about in bed all day, no matter what the circumstances may be. She sits up, her eyes falling upon the chest of her belongings. She’d almost forgotten; she’s still Mrs. Vane today, anyway. She freshens up, gets herself dressed, then heads down to the mess like a captain’s wife would do. The same, except that she’s wearing trousers and a jacket; she’s a sailor just like any other member of this crew, planning to pull her weight today same as every day.

Could it really work like this? She uses the short walk to ponder the success of the ruse, the way Fellows, and even the crew, seemed so ready to accept the plausibility that Captain Vane might be married to his navigator, and not some soft woman he kisses goodbye and leaves on shore whenever he goes hunting. Warmth swells in Hope’s chest, though she’s not certain she can trust it. The men may only be tolerating the situation so that they can poke fun at how ridiculous they really find it.

She must not have slept in too late, for the mess is still busy, and there are Jack and Anne, breaking their fast with Mr. Fellows. And Charles is seated right there beside him. Hope doesn’t think that she entered in any way that would call attention, but Charles’ head snaps up, his eyes finding her like he has a sixth sense for her very presence.

A warm smile breaks across his face, and his arm lifts to beckon her to take her place at his side.

“Ah, there’s your lovely wife,” she hears Fellows saying as she walks across the room. “I was beginning to wonder how much you must have worn her out last night.” As false as the man’s notions are, Hope’s chest nearly bursts at the blooming joy of imagining herself as Charles’ newlywed bride, being teased for overindulging in marital pleasures.

She allows herself to be tucked under Charles’ arm. It seems she’s not the only one enjoying the liberties this ruse allows as he presses her into his side, snug and tight. Anne is glaring at Fellows for his lewdness, but Hope kicks her swiftly under the table and she stands down.

Jack seems distracted by the sight of Charles’ hand wrapped around Hope’s shoulder. Did Charles not already tell him, then, that his sins have been forgiven, and his poorly-chosen words have done no lasting damage?

Hope’s “husband” looks down at her, sharing one brief, knowing look before returning his attention to their company. “She’s tough,” he grunts back to Fellows, and so his ankle is the next one that Hope’s boot has to find. He exaggerates a wince at the sharpness of her kick, so Fellows knows she didn’t take such crassness lying down, then catches her face up with a soft knuckle under her chin. “Good morning, my love,” he rumbles down at her, and Hope knows he’s not merely playing the part with those words.

He leans in and brushes his lips across her cheek, right in front of all these people. Hope can barely squeak out an answering “Morning” as she feels a flush that starts somewhere below the waist and quickly travels up to redden her cheeks.

Jack has a better poker face than Anne. While he manages to catch himself before it looks like he’s staring, Anne is reading the flush in Hope’s cheeks with intense interest, bordering on shock. Hope doesn’t know how to respond to her friend other than shrug, which only makes more questions appear in Anne’s eyes.

However, Anne’s eyes are not the ones Hope is most interested in reading. Her gaze flits back to Charles, who has not yet turned from her. He seems almost affronted that Hope had looked away from him at all, just to check the reactions of their companions at the table. “I trust you slept well?” he murmurs.

“Indeed.” At the risk of scandalizing Anne further, she redoubles her decision to enjoy the marital ruse to its fullest while it’s lasting. She gives Charles her sunniest smile. “Thank you for asking, my darling.” The simple pleasure that opens up his expression when he hears that term of endearment is worth the bit of embarrassment. “And you? Is it hard to get used to sharing your cabin?” It’s a tease, but it’s a jab with purpose. Hope is not indulging in this playacting simply for her own fun; she’s much too practical for that. What better chance have they than this, to determine if their love can really face the cold light of day, and the facts of a life at sea such as theirs?

Charles doesn’t miss a beat. “It’s no burden when it means having you at my side.”

His words, combined with the depth in his eyes as he says them, set her fluttering and tingling all over again. What’s worse, the effervescent joy results in a vibrant giggle that bursts regrettably from her throat.

Everyone stares at her. Even Fellows seems to sense this is violently out of character for her. Anne looks almost disgusted.

“Hope, darling, I’ve never seen you in such a good mood,” Jack says, and then he looks at Charles and he looks too smug.

“No thanks to you,” she says coolly.

That wipes the look off his face. His eyes shift between the two of them again, less certain. “I’ll admit, some of my words were—”

Hope cuts him off with a wave of her hand. “We may need to have it out after breakfast, but let’s not talk of it now.” Let him squirm a little longer.

“All’s well that ends well,” Charles grunts, and his hand slides across her back, incredibly soothing. Any other choice words die on her tongue. She had no idea it would feel so good to be touched by him. Nor that such depths of affection would ever come so easily from the man she had once so easily dismissed as ‘the brute.’

Anne is squirming in her seat now, just dying to know what happened last night, what exactly has so obviously changed between her captain and her friend.

Jack bumps Anne’s elbow. “Is that all you’re going to eat, darling?” he asks, with a meaningful look at Anne’s bowl. He’s spooning his own gruel into his mouth doubly fast, probably to stop his own tongue from wagging any further.

Anne turns her glare on Jack, and Hope realizes how healthy her own appetite is. Reading her mind, Charles pushes his own bowl in front of her, but Hope only glowers at him and rises. As reluctant as she is to pull herself away from the man, she is perfectly capable of fetching her own breakfast.

Otherwise, this may be the beginning of exactly the sort of changes she fears.

Hope steps into the chow line, passing Stevens where he sits with a knot of the old Starling crew, their heads pressed together in some quiet yet intense conversation. She returns his nod, then feels something tighten in her gut as he rises too casually and enters the queue behind her.

In the whirlwind of emotion that ended last night, she had entirely forgotten his murmurs of mutiny. What on earth should she say to him now?

“Today's a wonderful day, ain't it?” he says to her shoulder, just as the man in front of her has a bowl in his hand and his attention on the cookpot. There’s a subtle emphasis on the word ‘today,’ and Hope fears she knows exactly what that means. She turns her head just enough to let him know she’s listening; not far enough to make it look like they are engaged in more than the slightest passing of pleasantries. He lowers his voice, crowding her as if he’s eager to get to the food. “You won’t have to be ‘Mrs. Vane’ much longer. Look for me in the hold an hour after we make port.”

She nods. It’s her turn to take a bowl, and she won’t allow her hands to hesitate as she ladles up her serving. She’s certainly not in a position to debate the issue with Stevens right now, not if she isn’t prepared to turn him over immediately for mutiny, and she can’t convey reluctance without spooking the men into changing their plan and leaving her in the dark, certainly. So she lets Stevens go on assuming what he’s assuming. She’ll deal with it later. Before they get to port.

Her mood has been dampened but she tries not to let it show as she resumes her place at Charles’ side. He doesn’t wrap her up in his arm this time, instead leaving her room to eat, but his fingertips dance up and down her spine. Is this what he’s been wanting all this time, to constantly be touching her? She thrills at the very idea of it, even as it makes her worry. Can she really get away with this, happily ever after, with no sacrifice of freedom or respect?

“Your crew has such a family orientation,” Mr. Fellows remarks, looking around at the paired faces of his breakfast companions. “I never thought a pirating crew could be soft enough for ladies.”

“Say that again,” Anne growls from under the brim of her hat.

Fellows has the grace to look chagrined, at least. “That didn’t come out how I meant it.” He raises his hands as if to fend her off. “I only meant that, while a pirating life always seemed rather exciting, I always thought it would be lonely, too. That it would naturally be without any comfort, any kind or friendly feelings at all, among a crew of cutthroats,” he catches himself with a gulp, “again, no offense intended….”

Charles leans back, a smile pulling at his lips. “We certainly have cut a few throats in our day,” he muses, catching Anne’s eye in prideful reminiscence.

“And many more to come,” she answers, as if making a promise.

“I don’t know what I would do without Anne at my side,” Jack agrees, leaning in. “Though I doubt I could be rid of her if I tried.”

That earns him a whack. Fellows only nods solemnly, his eyes wide with envy.

“You never would, though,” Charles suggests, staring levelly across the table at his friend. “Nor would I let you. She belongs here on my crew as much as you do.”

“On some days, more, dare I say,” Jack replies with a wry little grin. He tilts his head. “I feel sorry for those men who feel they must leave their wives behind on shore. Honestly. How can you truly know your partner in this world if you can’t share your life with them? Your exploits, the triumphs, the bitter defeats?”

“I would never do that to Hope,” Vane rumbles. He does not turn his head to her, but his grip settles around her waist. “We haven’t been married long, but even if she said she wanted that cottage by the sea, I’m not sure I could suffer it.”

“I will never say that,” Hope interjects. “My dreams all lie upon the waves. Not caged inside four walls in some anchored corner of the world.”

He looks down at her then. His eyes teem with something wild and passionate and true.

“Are there more women like you in the world?” Fellows says forlornly, breaking their moment. “Perhaps you have an equally wild and courageous sister out there for me to meet?”

Charles’ other hand finds hers beneath the table.

“Oh, my sister is decidedly the domestic sort,” Hope dismisses. “Her husband captains a ship, but I’m not sure she has ever even set foot upon it.” She shifts in her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. She’s not certain Charles is aware that Fisher has a captaincy again, sailing a different ship out of ports other than Nassau and usually headed in a direction that the Ranger isn’t. Would it displease him, to know that his revenge against the captain of the Starling had only been a setback, and the man who had crossed him was out there pirating again?

“At least tell me your secret, Captain Vane,” Fellows continues, interrupting Hope’s train of thought. “How do you get a woman like Hope?”

Charles leans back and considers. His eyes search her face as he composes his answer. “You have to be bold and patient in equal measure.” He speaks slowly, thoughtfully, but with a certainty that gives her chills. “To love a woman like this takes both courage and restraint. It’s never going to be simply ‘your way.’”

“Even though you are her captain?”

“What’s a captain without his officers? Her counsel is usually quite wise.” He smirks, just a little. “And you have to be willing to be put in your place. Unexpectedly, and often.”

Jack sloshes his canteen in a quick toast. “Hear, hear!”

Anne makes his point for him with another glare and another whack.

Vane never takes his heavy gaze off Hope. “Am I forgetting anything, love?”

Hope finds herself almost speechless, though she certainly doesn’t want to be. It’s as if he’s using every turn in this conversation to continue the one they had been having last night. She wants to be able to believe that he’s sincere. She’s going to have to continue to test him until she can. “To never believe that you’ve tamed her,” she adds. “And never to even try.”

He doesn’t say anything back. His eyes don’t leave hers as he lifts her hand and kisses her fingers like a promise.

A clanging bell indicates the start of the next shift. An assortment of muted groans and curses flutter up from the men rising from their seats around them; cheerful ones, mostly, as the day’s work will bring them to port with a prize soon to be converted to coin to line their pockets quite handsomely. It’s enough to break the moment, as Hope herself begins to rise on reflex.

“We setting out soon?” Jack inquires in their direction.

“Works for me,” Hope shrugs. “I’ll adjust our heading after we clear the bay. We can take all day swinging around wide, so no one thinks we returned to port coming from this direction.”

“Truly magnificent,” Fellows comments softly.

“Get us underway, Jack,” Charles directs. He stands, looking down at Hope. “I’m going to my cabin.”

“Now?” Jack asks.

“Unfinished business,” he explains, curtly, and Hope feels pinpricks run all down her spine.

A/N: I can say that you won’t be waiting too long for the final chapter, but we all know what my time estimates are worth. I know what’s going to happen, at least. Posting this update now as a motivational factor for me to get the rest of the story out of my head and finally out into the world.

Taglist: @ladyhubris @summertimesadness101 @23orso @n3rdybird @bitchyikes @navigatrixnarrations @fearlessindigo @itmeansofthesea @kind-wolf

#charles vane #black sails fic #charles vane x oc #captain vane #black sails fanfiction #charles vane x hope wickham

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saibh29 · 7 years

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My Savior

Pairing: Vane / Reader

Warnings: Slavery, violence, death, swearing

Request: Taking requests for Vane? Sign me up! ❤❤ this is partially inspired by yours (and a scene from a Narnia movie...) reader is a Virgin that was captured and is being sold at an auction. Vane for whatever reason bids and wins (or watches then kills the winner...) either way...

@angelaiswriting @selldraug @georgiagrl1990 @angryares

You’d lost track of the days since it had happened. You hadn’t even realised that slavers still existed in the islands. They obviously did though because you had a large metal circlet locked around your neck and equally heavy manacles on your wrists and legs. The manacles were starting to rub the skin raw underneath them and your back was still smarting from the lashing you’d received a few days past.

The only other girl from your village to have survived this long had been starving, she wouldn’t last much longer and you’d tried to give her the only mouldy crust of bread they’d given you. Of course sharing wasn’t allowed. Especially not when it was in their eyes wasted on a slave who was already dead.

You’d been dragged from the cramped brig and tied to the mast post above, they’d given you 10 lashes for the crime of trying to help another human being, and your act of kindness. Well it had achieved nothing but pain and an empty stomach for you and the girl had died anyhow only the next day.

The ship had stopped at first light this morning and you’d heard the sailors shouting and laughing as they’d thrown the anchor down. They had been back and forth all morning, although it was hard to count the passage of hours down at the bottom of the ship it was still possible through a crack in the hull. A crack that let you see outside at the expensive of regularly being soaked through with sea water.

“Get the trash up and out of my ship”

The voice of the captain made you shudder as the sailors came tumbling down the stairs to the brig, they already reeked of rum and most were half way to being drunk.

You and the others in the hold were hauled to your feet and out into the sun. You hadn’t seen daylight for such a long time that the light was hurting your eyes.

The other men from your village who had been in the brig with you were surrounding you trying to keep you from most of the sailors leering gazes and harsh words. Not that it was helping all that much, the men were as weak as you were and all of you could barely stand upright on your own.

The group of you were herded to a boat and rode across to land, you managed to blank out most of the rest of the trip to used to the manhandling of the sailors.

You found yourself stood in the centre of a large town, stood on a platform with the men and women of the town below staring up at you. There was nothing you could do to detract from there stares as they raked eyes up and down your basically naked body.

The captain of the ship appeared and grabbed the chain to the manacle around your neck dragging you forwards to the front of the stage.

It took you a moment to keep up with their long words and quick accents and figure out what was actually happening.

They were trying to sell you. A man stood away from the group of slaves was reading off a checklist of your statistics, height, weight, hair and eyes colour. You honestly didn’t know what to do, stuck in place listening to them talk about you like you weren’t even there.

People were shouting again raising their hands and screaming out numbers. They were bidding on you. Your stomach was churning as you watched until finally no one was shouting anymore, no more bids.

A giant of a man was coming towards you. He was smiling evilly eyes roaming over your body in a way that promised you weren’t going to like what he was going to do to you.

“Me and you girly we’re going to have a lot of fun together”

There were tears starting to form in the corners of your eyes as the captain of the ship handed over you chain to this man, he yanked pulling you forwards down the steps of the stage and through the crowds out into the town.

You’d barely got away from the crowd when he switched his grip on the chain to your body pulling you close to him as he pressed his lower body into your own.

“Lots and lots of fun”

Fully crying now you reacted on instinct pushing desperately and punching with your hands as much as you could. You must have landed one punch though because he swore loudly.

“You fucking bitch”

He punched you sending you down to the floor. He was moving towards you one more when suddenly he stopped eyes going wide in shock as he looked down at his chest. Sticking out of there was a sword. He gasped and fell forwards, dead on the floor.

The man he had revealed behind him didn’t make you feel any safer as he stared down at you a glint in his eyes that you had never seen before.

He took a step towards you and you couldn’t help but flinch. The man stopped instantly.

“It’s alright darling, I ain’t going to hurt you” he held his hands up as he crouched down in front of you. “You ain’t got nothing to fear from me. What’s your name sweetheart?”

You watched him carefully, he was making you feel safe. You didn’t know why because he certainly didn’t look safe but there was something in the way he spoke.

“Y/N, my name is Y/N”

“Y/N” he reached out and carefully turned your face up to the light so he could look at the split lip the man from before had just given you. His eyes then going to the chains around your wrists, ankles and neck. “Come with me Y/N. Let’s get them off”

He held his hand out getting back to his feet and almost like it was a compulsion you placed your hand in his allowing him to help you back up to your feet.

He led you through the streets to a large building near the edge of town. Inside it was warm and a man was sat at a table smoking and swearing as a woman opposite him said something quietly.

“Fuck off you two” your rescuer growled at them.

They turned instantly eyes raking up and down you, they weren’t judging though you could see no pity and disgust in either of their eyes.

“Captain” the man said nodding and dragging the woman out of the door.

“Captain?” you whispered.

He grunted “Vane, Charles Vane. Sit there love” he pointed at the chair the woman had recently vacated. You did as he said not wanting to upset him while Vane grabbed some things from a cupboard over at the side of the room.

He came back over to you gently rotating the manacle around your neck, he was being careful but your skin was so damaged underneath that even the smallest movement was making you cringe.

“Fuck” he swore harshly “alright pet, stay still I’m gonna get this off”

“Alright”

He took a tool out of the pile of things he’d brought with him and you quickly closed your eyes not wanting to watch what he was going to do. You felt pressure on the manacle a sharp bite of pain and then suddenly you were free. The weight had gone and your skin was finally unshackled from the irons.

Vane did the same thing to the manacles around your wrists and ankles then sat back on his haunches staring at your face.

“They sure did a fucking number on you”

You were staring at the marks on your wrists. “Why are you helping me?” you asked softly, almost scared of the answer he was going to give you. “I don’t have any money to pay your, or anything of any value”

“I don’t want anything pet” he insisted. “I know what it’s like to be a captive not of your own making, to have your free will taken away”

“You were a slave?” it seemed unthinkable that anyone would be able to capture the strong man in front of you but he was nodding at your question.

“I was, a life time ago now”

“What happens now?” you asked him as you finally looked back up into his bright blue eyes. “My home is gone, my family are dead and everything I knew has been destroyed”

“One day at a time sweetheart” he said. “One step at a time. There’s a bath upstairs we’ll fill it and you can get clean. Then we’ll talk about what happens after that”

He got back to his feet obviously ready to go and get the water for the bath he’d just promised you. Unthinking you reached out and grabbed his hand. He stopped frozen looking down at you.

“Thank you” you whispered. “Just… thank you”

He grunted obviously uncomfortable with your thanks. He simply went outside to get water.

You couldn’t believe what had just happened to you. You hadn’t believed you had still gotten any luck left due to you, but apparently you had because Captain Charles Vane had obviously been sent to save you and that was a piece of luck you’d never have thought yourself worthy of.

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fategranddisorder · 3 years

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I will stay with you (Vane)

Warnings: none

Vane is ecstatic. To be the recipient of chocolates, of your praise, your affections.

"Is this really… for me? You're gonna give me something every year?"

Vane feels the emotions swell in chest, as your eyes crinkle and you lips turn up into a smile before you nod. So that would mean he could always expect a present. Not only this year, but every year afterwards.

Honestly the only thing grounding him is his spear and he grips the weapon a bit tighter.

Vane wants to say thank you, to show you properly how grateful he is. Yet in this moment he could only tear up at your gesture. You are a little surprised, the members of your crew don't usually cry when you offer them the chocolates.

Vane has always wears his emotions on his sleeve, but you didn't mean to make him cry during his training.

The vice captain notices your worried look and sniffles. He has to do something to soothe your worries, god he didn’t mean to make you worried. He is just so incredibly happy.

"I gotta be the luckiest guy in the skies!" Vane snobs out and you gently pat his shoulder. You let out a breath in relief, happy tears, he crying happy tears.

"You can't help but cry at this kinda of thing, you know?" Vane sniffles and looks down at you.

The tears stick to his lashes as he tries to blink them away, is it horrible of you to think that his glassy eyes look pretty? And he looks at you so fondly. Like you are his sun and moon, his world. You can feel the warmth spread from your cheeks to your neck and ears, almost as fast as your beating heart. It is unfair Vane is able to do this to you with the intensity of his gaze.

The words leave your lips before you have time to consider them.

"I will stay with you"

Vane blinks a couple of times, causing more tears to drip down his cheeks. Vane is ready to die from happiness. He is only standing by the sheer force of his will and the pure joy he feels. You are such a kind captain, such a kind friend, maybe even a kind...

"You'll stay with me until I calm down?" Vane asks. His mind reeling there was nothing else behind your words right? Because that is all it is, right? He wasn’t as cool or famous like Lancy or Percy. You couldn’t possibly...

Your hand twitches on his upper arm. Feeling the muscles underneath the cloth tense. Like the man before was unsure. But he has no reason to be.

Not when those bright blue eyes look at you, corners of those eyes slightly crinkles in joy. The biggest smile on those pretty lips and blonde hair slightly tousled from the wind and training.

The men in the sky realms and no right to be so handsome.

"Captain?" Vane asks gently, because the way look at him is getting him all hot and bothered. Star struck, all your attention on him, is that a blush on your cheeks? And your lips are parted ever so slightly, are you wearing gloss today?

Your undivided attention, all on him, and it feels good. Vane wants to scold himself. You aren't his alone, you are the captain of an infamous crew. The singularity, the one who has the respect of the most powerful beings and groups

But you, again, surprise him. Because before he takes another breath your small frame presses against him, your arms wrapping around his torso.

"It is okay" You whisper and gently start rubbing his back. Vane just can't help it, more tears spill from his eyes.

A loud clank makes you jump in shock but before you could even look Vane wraps his arms around you. One around your shoulder and one hand pressing against the small of your back locking you against him.

"Captain" the man sniffles and nuzzles the crown of your head. Taking in scent of your hair and you feel more than hear the happy grumble in Vanes' chest.

"I might take me the whole day to recover from this" Vane mumbles, feeling brave. He doesn't want to lose this feeling of warmth. The feeling of you pressed against his strong body.

The always strong and brave Captain is safe in his arms.

You smile, though you know he can't see it, and press your hands flat against his back. Wanting to drown is this feeling, in everything that Vane the wonderful man that he is.

"I will stay with you, today and all the days after."

#granblue fantasy #gbf #Vane #reader #Vane x reader #djeeta #gran #reader is the captain #fluff #k.valentinefics #fanfiction #gbf fanfic #k.writes✒

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demenior · 4 years

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Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Black Sails Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton, Captain Flint | James McGraw & John Silver, Madi/John Silver Characters: Captain Flint | James McGraw, John Silver, Thomas Hamilton, Miranda Barlow Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Possessive Captain Flint | James McGraw, Angst and Romance, Mutual Pining, Falling In Love, Miranda Barlow Lives, Slow Burn, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, Ambiguous Relationships, Polyamory, Charles Vane Lives (Black Sails), Miscommunication, Self-Worth Issues, Domestic, Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build Summary:

James leaves London, disgraced and alone. News finds him, in Nassau: Thomas and Miranda have died. Captain Flint is born in brine, blood and grief. Ten years later Nassau is a free colony. Flint has never been closer to winning his war.

The unthinkable happens.

Thomas and Miranda walk into the room.

Flint has been on his own for 10 years. He's the avatar of darkness and savagery. An unlovable, feral monster. He's their James. And look what he's made of himself.

#black sails #captain flint #charles vane #thomas hamilton #flinthamilton #flinthamiltons #miranda barlow #from eden fic #black sails fanfiction

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a-pirate-my-hearties · 3 years

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The Invitation (chapter 1 of my Captain Hook x adult!Wendy fanfiction)

So the lovely @wisp-of-a-spook and I were talking the other day about writing a fic about a masquerade ball with the said pairing. I actually proposed her she could write it but said I will also write my own, so here is the first part! And let’s hope my writer’s block is gone forever! :D But you have to forgive me, since I’m not a Native English speaker and I’m rusty as hell, since I haven’t written any fic in AGES. So bear with me.

@wisp-of-a-spook, so here it is! <3 I hope I will get to the next part soon :)

I just find the Captain Hook tag very lacking in the fanfiction department. ;)

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own any of the characters, these are barely my interpretations of them.

FACECLAIMS: Captain Hook looks like the irreplaceable Jason Isaacs in “Peter Pan” 2003 film.

Wendy Darling more less as an adult Rachel Hurd-Wood. Examples: her roles as Sybil Vane in “Dorian Gray” or anything other where she’s adult anyway.

~~~~~~~~

Wendy Darling was quite content with her life. She was top of the class at the university, close to graduating with a master’s degree. It was to nobody’s surprise that she chose to study literature. Wendy was, after all, a storyteller, and a masterful one at that. It seemed but the right choice to study the stories that had entranced her from her very childhood.

Once a week, every Friday, her close friends would meet her at Mrs. And Mr. Darling’s house, gathering around the fireplace, faces filled with amazement and awe, to listen to the wonderful stories Wendy has been so passionately and carefully crafting and then telling.

Fire would lit in her jade green eyes when she spoke, a mischievous smile playing on her still yet girlish lips, golden brown locks thrown away in disarray when she gesticulated.

But Wendy Darling was very much a woman now. She grew up and it wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened, she thought.

Yet despite the obvious success in her field, despite the friends and loving family, Wendy’s life lacked something. It lacked something deep and profound and enticing, the feeling that would make her blood stir in excitement, make the life worthwhile – companionship and adventure.

And it’s been like that since she left Neverland.

Neverland was a place full of wondrous but treacherous magic that Wendy and her brothers used to frequently visit as children – in their dreams, at first. But soon the veil between dreams and reality became so thin it could rip at any moment – and so it did. Wendy, John and Michael soon met Peter Pan, who tought them to fly and it was him who took them to Neverland – this time for real.

Peter was her first love. She gave him her hidden kiss – oh, to be so vulnerable again –

They lived through all kinds of adventures, met the lost boys and sirens and Indians and pirates and –

Him.

For the past few nights Wendy has been having the same dream on repeat. Surely she must have been missing Neverland. But it was not Peter hauting her dreams. Those weren’t his boyish green eyes and his ‘cockadoodledoo!’ she could hear. Her feelings for him were gone, she was not a girl anymore –

Wendy was dreaming of eyes so blue, those unmistakable eyes, blue as forget-me-nots, of profound melancholy1, and all around her, as if an echo in a well, she could hear his voice:

‘Wendy… Darling...’

Wendy woke up with a loud gasp, eyes shooting wide open. She fell asleep on her desk again, face against the hardcover of her textbook. Grimacing and rubbing her face, she got up and stretched her neck. She put on her favourite lavender robe and went down the stairs to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

The clock in the living room struck midnight and then stopped ticking.2 At first Wendy didn’t notice, busy making her tea, but then it caught her attention.

‘How odd...’

She went to the living room and frowned at the clock in puzzlement, but then heard a firm knock on the door.

It was very weird for anyone to come at this time , Wendy certainly wasn’t expecting anyone and she was home alone. But Wendy Moira Angela Darling wasn’t raised a coward.

She went to the door and hesitated a bit before opening it. There was nobody and nothing outside.

‘Hello?’

She looked around, irked. Probably some prankster was thinking himself funny with these type of jokes.

But to her surpise there actually was something. A thin, rectangular object, slowly falling down in a feather-like manner and finally landing on her doormat in front of her.

Wendy stared at the object, confused, then picked it up.

It was an envelope, of dark crimson colour, sealed with golden wax. Adressed to ‘Miss Wendy Darling’. And glistening with… was this possible? Was that fairy dust?..

Wendy’s gasp was barely audible when she was staring at the envelope with wonder, but then the chill October air reminded her she wasn’t suitably dressed, so she went back inside.

Still bewildered, she sat at the kitchen table and took a deep breath before cracking the wax open with slightly shaking hands.

Inside there was an invitation card, written in beautiful cursive:

Samhain Masquerade Ball

You are cordially invited to the great Samhain Masquerade Ball, hosted by the ever so generous Captain James Hook. Second star to the right and straight on till morning. We will be honoured by your presence. Wear your best.

Apart from the invitation card there was also a folded piece of parchment. Wendy took it out of the envelope and smelled tobacco, vanilla and spices. It wasn’t a strong smell, it slightly lingered on the parchment, barely a memory of a much stronger essence, but it was enough to make her head spin. Wendy already knew who this was from.

She unfolded the parchment.

‘There’s still a room for a storyteller.’

Even his handwriting felt familiar. And she knew she will accept the invitation.

Wendy felt something light drop onto the floor. She bent down to check what it was. When she got up, her mouth was curling up slightly, eyes filled with nostalgia and pressed forget-me-nots in her hand.

1Just as J.M. Barrie described Captain Hook’s eyes.

2Midnight is the hour of ghosts. In the Gothic fiction it’s the hour where peculiar and fantastical things are more likely to happen. :)

#DarlingHook #captain james hook #wendy x hook #adult wendy x hook #captain hook x wendy #jason isaacs #rachel hurd-wood #neverland #peter pan fanfiction #jas. hook #james hook #darlinghook fanfic #ficlet #the invitation #peter pan 2003 #captain hook x adult!wendy fanfiction #peter pan #peter pan and wendy #my writing

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itmeansofthesea · 3 years

Text

Part 1

I posted something about this idea I had featuring Blackbeard's niece and with a Charles Vane/oc pairing. Here's part 1. It doesn't have a name, so any and all suggestions are appreciated as is any feedback you might have. Disclaimer: the last time I wrote fanfiction was over a decade ago. I hope it's alright. Well... enjoy. Or don't. Either way, you know what to do.

Warning: language

Slipping into the meeting had almost been too easy. One would think that a room full of pirates would notice a woman slipping in, but she supposed that she had Anne Bonny to thank for paving her way. Anne stood posted behind Jack Rackham, the newly self-proclaimed “daddy” of Nassau. She looked around the room at the captains assembled and did her best not to roll her eyes. She was sure they were good pirates, maybe even good men, but they weren’t up to what was coming. Not like her uncle and the man she was doing her absolute best not to watch.

She didn’t come here for them. She came for the principle of it- at least that’s what she told herself. It wasn’t a “fuck you” to her uncle, it wasn’t a twisted sense of duty to a place that shunned her at one word of her uncle’s, and it absolutely definitely most certainly was not because the one man she’d ever loved had a price on his head (the only pirate to have a price on his head apparently) and she would be damned before she would let him die like this. No. She came because civilization came beating on the door with a Woodes Rogers sized battering ram with Eleanor Guthrie at his side and she was ready to watch them burn. The last place where people- not just men- were in charge of their own lives would not fall because some pompous asshole with a traitorous despot at his side showed up with some of the British Navy. Not on her watch.

“If there’s even the slightest doubt in your mind that you would die for this place, get the fuck out.”

All heads turned in her direction. She watched acknowledgement flicker across her uncle’s face followed by stunned… pride? Maybe? She watched recognition pass over his face, followed by some measure of… admiration? Maybe? She watched Jack Rackham’s mouth drop and a smirk cross Anne Bonny’s lips before resuming her trademark scowl.

A couple of the other captains stood up to challenge her. Who was this woman that she thought she could tell them what to do and a whole bunch of other shit that she honestly didn’t have the patience for.

“Silence,” her uncle boomed from his place at the other end of the table.

She pushed off the wall with one foot and stepped forward. “This plan will not work unless everyone here is committed completely to it. So again, if there’s even the slightest doubt in your mind that you would die for this place, get. the. fuck. out.”

“And just who do you think you are?” She was pretty sure that was Captain Lawrence.

She bared her teeth into something resembling the cross between a smirk and a sneer and let the full fire of her being reach her eyes. She lifted the edge of her hat and enunciated slowly, “Alex. But you can call me Captain Teach.”

#charles vane #blackbeard #black sails #charles vane x oc

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somedaylazysomeday · 3 months

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Captured - Part Three

For the first time, you're in the infamous Guthrie's Tavern. It goes about as well as expected.

Captain Charles Vane (Black Sails) x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,800

Warnings: Concealed gender, drinking, mentions of prostitution, brief reference to public sex, reader is disappointingly heterosexual, mention of anal sex, unprotected sex, brief anal play

Previous | Masterlist

---

The liquid in your pewter tankard was foul.

You had tried to set it back on the scarred wooden surface of the table several times, but it barely rested on the surface before someone was offering to fill it once more. By this point, it was near-overflowing and you could hardly manage more than an occasional sip.

It was loud, the large room filled with men boisterous from their work. Fights broke out every few minutes and you were uncomfortable with the women milling about half-dressed. Even worse were the ones sitting on laps around the room, caressed by the patrons - or taking part in less tame activities.

It was hardly somewhere you wanted to be, but the men had wanted to go to the tavern on Nassau. You were flattered that they had wanted to bring you along.

You did your best to relax and enjoy the coolness of the shaded room on the hot island and the excitement buzzing in the air. The stories and jokes being shouted by your crewmates around the table made you smile, and you braved another sip from your tankard.

Vane rumbled a laugh, which lightened your mood still further. He had managed to seat you two beside each other around the table, accomplished due to his own need to have his back at a wall and the fact that you had been leading the group through the chaotic room.

He had been quiet since the beach. More accurately, he had been brooding. One of the men had told you they were going to ‘the tavern’. You, unaware of any issue, had asked if it had a proper name or if it were known as ‘the tavern’ because it was the only one on the island. The answer had been that there were a few, but everyone knew Guthrie’s was the best one.

The uncomfortable silence and venomous stares from the other crewmembers had been your first hint that something was amiss. Vane pushed past them all, swaggering in the direction they had been moving. You only picked up on the clues when one of the pirates elbowed the one who had spoken, telling him not to say that name in front of the captain. Not if he wanted to keep from pulling night watch for a fortnight.

You had trailed behind the group, trying to put together all of the pieces of information you had gathered during your time on the Ranger. But Vane seemed to be in better spirits now. Perhaps it was the company. Perhaps it was the temporary release from the stress of captaining a pirate crew. Perhaps it was the two tankards he had managed to drain, or the third he was currently nursing.

In any case, you were happy to listen to your fellow crewmates regale each other with stories, remembering the men who had crewed the Ranger before or tossing around names of potential new recruits.

That casual atmosphere was shattered when a pretty blonde woman marched through the room.

The men at the table went silent, and something told you this was more than appreciation for a beautiful woman after months at sea. Perhaps this was the famous Eleanor Guthrie.

She was halfway past your table when her blue eyes landed on Vane and slowed, her eyes dragging over him like they were reluctant to move elsewhere. But they did, and unfortunately, they moved to you.

It took only a moment of studying your face for her lip to curl and she came to a stop directly in front of your table.

“Charles,” she greeted, her tone flat and unwelcoming. The men tried to pretend their focus was elsewhere, but your attention was glued to the scene.

“Eleanor,” Vane ground out. You had never heard him sound so hostile, especially in only a single word.

“Your hubris is almost to be admired,” Eleanor told him icily. She jutted her chin toward you. “Most men refuse to sail with a single woman on their crew, and yet you have managed to find a second. Was Bonny alone not enough to tempt fate?”

A stunned silence fell, and you watched the muscles in Vane’s jaw flex. A slap to your shoulder nearly knocked you from your chair.

“What, d’ya mean Simon?” Elias asked. “He’s a man if I’ve ever seen one.”

“Yeah,” Murphy agreed with a guffaw. “A young ‘un, but he’ll have his whiskers soon as his balls drop.”

That was crass, but you appreciated the fond way Murphy reached across the table to tug your hat down over your eyes. You offered a weak smile when you had fixed it well enough to see again.

“Simon,” Eleanor repeated skeptically. “Simon what?”

You gave your best attempt at lowering your voice into a male register. “Simon Grove, ma’am.”

“Simon Grove.” Eleanor folded her arms over her front, giving you a disapproving look. “How startlingly delicate you are for serving aboard a sailing vessel for… How long is it now? Several months?”

Your mouth opened noiselessly as you processed the shock of knowing that Eleanor Guthrie had been keeping tabs on your time aboard the Ranger.

Benny rested his elbow on your shoulder. “Aye, he’s a skinny little lad, but it’s only ‘cause he was an apprentice back in London. Worked for some man, didn’t you, boy? Doin’ sums?”

“I was an apprentice to a bookkeeper,” you agreed. “No time for physical labor.”

“Physical labor,” James mocked. “Hear him, lads? Still speaks like a highborn lady, don’t he?”

“Indeed,” Eleanor bit out. The men startled as if they had forgotten that she was standing there. “Quite feminine.”

“Leave it, Eleanor,” Vane commanded, his voice so deep that you could barely understand him.

Eleanor eyed him for a moment, one brow raised challengingly. At last, she gave the barest hint of a nod. “My mistake, Simon. Enjoy your time in my tavern.”

Everyone watched Eleanor Guthrie sweep away, but you finally recognized their attention for what it was: wariness. You distrusted her, and it seemed that you were far from the only one. It was only after she had disappeared into an office off the main room of the tavern that your crewmates relaxed.

You struggled to regain your previous state of relaxation, though, and Vane returned to scowling. You had to wonder whether he was angry because of the sudden appearance of a past lover or that she had recognized that he had found another with whom to replace her. Eleanor struck you as the breed of woman to despise competition.

Those suspicions were confirmed when you spotted a beautiful woman crossing the room with another trailing behind. Both of their gazes were fixed on the table, and you braced yourself for an incoming shock.

“I am looking for… Simon?” the shorter of the two women asked. She had been in the lead, and there was something in her voice and posture that subtly announced her status as an authority figure of some kind. Her dress was of a higher quality than many of the others and bared less of her skin, but she was utterly sensual with the soft waves of her hair and the lilt of her French accent.

“Bastard,” Elias cursed, even as he grinned at you. “He’s over there.”

You lifted a hand, making the motion as quick and small as you could manage.

She caught it anyway, smiling at you. “I am Max, the madame. This is Jeanette.”

Max’s accent rolled Jeanette’s name the way it was meant to be, giving it the melodic weight it deserved. There was a pause, full of a meaning you did not quite grasp. You nodded, offering a smile to the women. “Nice to meet you, Jeanette.”

“Pleasure,” Jeanette said, her seductive smile melting toward something more natural.

“A man with manners,” Max remarked, also smiling. “Jeanette here is a gift from Eleanor Guthrie. She apologizes for her misstep. Your first hour with Jeanette has been paid for. Any further time will be your own responsibility. Enjoy.”

Max slipped away, disappearing into the crowd as Jeanette held a graceful hand out in your direction.

You balked.

The crewmembers of the Ranger joked and complained that you were lucky, several of them offering to take your place. If only it were that simple. It was a master stroke. No red-blooded sailor would refuse time with a pretty woman in a tavern, especially if his time with her were to be free. Eleanor was trying to maneuver you into revealing your own secret.

“Captain?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound nearly as desperate as you felt as you glanced at Vane.

Murphy jeered. “He’s not your captain on shore, boy!” Vane shot him such a venomous glare that Murphy stared down at the table without offering another word.

“Go,” Vane ordered roughly. In a much lower voice, he added, “I’ll fix it.”

And he was gone too, disappearing into the crowd. You stared after him, feeling rather like a child lost in an unfamiliar and frightening place.

“Don’t mind him, lad,” Benny said kindly. “He’s probably after a piece of his own.”

Elias stood from the table, stretching his back as he did so. “Think I’ll go do the same. Shore leave ain’t complete without some tail to make you feel relaxed.”

“Hop to it, boy,” Murphy told you, grinning broadly. “Unless you need some help makin’ sure you leave her properly fucked.”

You knew a lot about properly-fucked women, but being on this side had you at a loss.

However, you were left with no alternative, so you stood and took Jeanette’s hand. She wove her fingers through yours, using your shared grip to lead you through the room.

Jeanette moved confidently through the crowd, dancing through the masses as you followed clumsily behind her. Fear made your steps slow and graceless, your mind far too preoccupied to worry about your body.

What would the pirates do when they discovered your ruse? Surely, they would react poorly. Like Eleanor had so kindly mentioned, most sailors believed that having a woman aboard a ship brought terribly bad luck. Would they remove you from the Ranger permanently? Would they kill you outright? Or would they simply abandon you to the shores of Nassau, leaving you to find your own way there without another moment of rough kindness or brotherly teasing?

The mere thought made your stomach twist. Or perhaps that was your sudden proximity to the staircase.

Jeanette’s pace slowed considerably when you reached the stairs. At first, you thought it was because of her shoes, but a downward glance proved her to be bare-foot. The only reasoning you could infer was that she was giving the other women time to ply their own wares for when you had finished with Jeanette.

Scantily-clad women lined the staircase, lounging and chatting in a show of faux relaxation. They called their hourly rates to you, pairing them with lewd suggestions that made your face heat. The worst were the ones who reached out with graceful arms, offering to wrap them around you and stroking whatever they could reach. You managed to avoid most of them. With any luck, the few who encountered the long linen rectangle wrapped around your breasts would believe you were wearing a thick shirt.

Vaguely, you recognized that a woman had pulled Jeanette close. They seemed to whisper for a moment before they shared a long, worshipful kiss. The sight of their searching lips and wandering hands made your body begin to react, though you were thinking of Vane rather than either of the women standing before you.

At last, Jeanette broke away from the other woman, giving you a coy smile. “Pardon, lovey. Follow me.”

As if you had not been doing that very thing? You bit back impatience as you continued up the narrow staircase, brushing shoulders with a dazed-looking pirate on his way back down. Your temper was high, but it was a thin facade. You had not decided how to defuse the situation and time was growing short.

When you reached the top of the staircase, Jeanette opened a door and ushered you through. You stepped inside, observing the space with no small amount of curiosity. It was hardly what you had expected from the stories you had overheard in London. You had expected a dark, cavernous space, cramped and heavily perfumed.

Instead, the room was high-ceilinged and airy. The doors that led onto the small balcony were closed, but enough wind filtered through the shuttered windows that the room smelled of salt air and sunshine. The furnishings were opulent, far more ornate than you would have expected… until you noticed that they were shabby around the edges. Everything that surrounded the pirates of Nassau was a little shabby, and that familiar quality helped put you slightly more at ease. That feeling dissipated slightly as Jeanette closed the door, shutting you in the room together.

You half turned your head in an effort to watch Jeanette without being obvious. She gave you a small smile as she crossed the room, moving determinedly toward a folding screen set along one wall. That likely meant she would disrobe, and then you would have to do something. You were still uncertain of what exactly you would do. Fear and discomfort made it difficult for you to think.

Jeanette moved the panels of the screen aside, revealing a set of double doors set into the wall. She drew them open, stepping back to watch you, her amusement plain.

There was a moment of loaded silence, you and Jeanette watching each other, but a voice soon broke the tension: “Simon. Enter.”

You obeyed, stepping through the doorway before you had time to process that you had recognized the speaker. “Max.”

The door from Jeanette’s room had led into this one, the rooms connected only to each other. This room was as light-filled and airy as Jeanette’s, but almost twice the size. There was a large desk on one side of the room, facing the door you had not come through. Max was sitting behind it, clearly having paused in the middle of writing a letter to glance up at you.

The young madame smiled, a dimple appearing in her cheek like magic. “Please, sit. We will have company soon.”

You looked nervous when you sat down across from Max. You could feel the trepidation written across your own features, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. In an effort to hide what little you could, you chose not to speak.

As it happened, you were not given a choice. Max fixed you with a curious stare. “Tell me: was it you who found the discrepancy in the prices Eleanor Guthrie paid for the goods brought back on the Ranger?”

Lying seemed to be the wisest course of action, but it would do little good. Any of the crew would tell Max the same, so there was no need to be less than honest. “Yes, it was I.”

Max dipped her chin in a slow nod. “Miss Guthrie had to part with a significant amount of her profits or risk a riot. Nassau’s crews did not take kindly to hear of their own being cheated.”

“I told none other than the captain of my crew,” you replied, gaze even.

“Of course.” Max smiled then, bright and mischievous. “I found myself well entertained while she dealt with the trouble. For that inconvenience, I am willing to look the other way for the odd situation. Especially when doing so protects a marvelous secret.”

Clearly, she had ferreted out your secret. You were beginning to wonder if your disguise fooled anyone at all.

“I know no secrets,” you told her, lowering your chin to give her a look with more intensity. Men did not lift their chins when they argued, but lowered them for a deeper stare, a deeper voice, and greater protection. “And I have asked you no favors.”

There was a knock on the door and you tensed.

“You have not,” Max agreed, turning her attention to the door. “You may enter.”

With concentrated effort, you did not turn toward the door opening behind your chair. However, a well-placed mirror allowed you to watch as a familiar figure entered the room.

"Max," Jack Rackham greeted, offering a nod as he walked through the doorway.

Anne Bonny was just behind him, silent and graceful as a shadow as she slipped through the door. She scanned the room and, having found no threats, nodded to you and Max as well.

At last, Vane came in, closing the door behind himself. His focus was fixed on you, only you. He crossed to where you were sitting, looking more powerful than ever with tension coiled in his muscles.

"What the fuck is happening?" he demanded without preamble.

Max seemed unconcerned with Vane's lack of social graces. "Eleanor has discovered your little secret. Naturally, she will take her petty revenge where she can."

Vane growled. "Not me she going after."

"Did you expect another reaction?" Max asked, curious. A tilt of her head sent a chestnut spiral of hair brushing along her shoulder until it came to rest on the swell of her breast. Abruptly, you understood how she had become a madame so young. "You have taken a new lover. She could never allow such a thing."

"Hold on," Jack interjected. "The two of them aren't necessarily fucking just because we have a woman in disguise on the ship."

Anne snorted indelicately while Max gave Jack an arch look. "Not necessarily, but it is obvious for any who care to look."

"What are we going to do?" you asked. The pirates and prostitutes in the room were observing, not judging, but you would prefer not to have your private affairs discussed in such a public place.

There was a stilted pause as everyone in the room eyed each other.

"It is simple," Max told you. Oddly, you found her directness soothing. "You and Jeanette will return to her room. She will loudly and repeatedly compliment 'Simon' on his skill and size. When what remains of your hour has ended, you may leave. If anyone - including Eleanor - asks about the encounter, both Jeanette and myself will swear Simon is a man. Is this acceptable?"

Everyone looked to Vane. He looked at you. When you gave a nod, he returned it, the gesture taut with temper.

"And what do you intend to charge for these generous services?" Jack asked Max, crossing his arms in a clear attempt to look more threatening. Meanwhile, Vane was standing beside you - loose-limbed with his hand resting just touching your arm - and looked like the most dangerous person in the world.

Max smiled, an enigmatic expression. She tilted her head toward you. “We have already discussed payment. It has been settled.”

Vane frowned at you, but Max rose, beckoning you back toward Jeanette’s room. “Time is short. You must begin. Everyone else will wait in the tavern.”

“Like hell.” Vane’s growl was short, sharp, and unwavering. He had stood when you did, shadowing every step you took toward Jeanette and her bedroom.

“Charles…” Jack urged.

“Surely you can see that your presence would add nothing to the situation?” Max asked him. “This office must be visibly empty while the performance is going, and none other than ‘Simon’ may leave Jeanette’s room at the end of their shared hour. You in particular, Captain Vane, must be seen in the tavern the entire time they are gone. Eleanor will be watching for your reaction to this development just as she watched Simon’s reaction to her gift. Both of your lives will be far easier if Eleanor concludes that she was mistaken.”

Vane glowered at her, but stepped back, letting you continue forward alone. Jeanette gave you a kind smile and closed the door behind you both. Vane’s eyes burned into yours until the wooden panels of the door cut through your shared gaze.

The following half-hour was one of the most mortifying of your life - perhaps second in comparison to the first time Vane had stripped you, discovered your true identity, and pulled unimaginable pleasure from your confused body.

Jeanette was a masterful actress, moaning wantonly in a way that made your face burn. At her urging, you managed a few sharp groans and a particularly loud curse at a strategic moment. Jeanette’s compliments were as loud as they were lewd, and you could not decide whether it would be better or worse for them to have been overheard. At last, she prompted you to give a shout, one almost drowned out by her rapturous cry.

A part of your mind had withdrawn into itself in a bid for protection, and it wondered if you should be more vocal in your endeavors with Vane. Thankfully, you could not ponder it for long, because Jeanette was toying with your clothing.

Jeanette adjusted your belt, leaving it slightly looser than it had been, then misbuttoned one of your shirt buttons and tilted your hat to sit crooked atop your head. She pressed her fingers against your lips to swell them and - with your hesitant permission - gave a delicate bite against the side of your neck, leaving the mark clearly visible above your mussed collar.

You were sure to thank her as you left. You had no illusions about what any Nassau resident would do with such valuable information, but you would not jeopardize yourself by failing to be kind.

When you let yourself out of the door, Jeanette wound herself around your back, pressing a kiss to the mark she had left on your neck. You could feel that she was partially undressed, one bare breast visible to the tavern below. As you hurried down the stairs, you tugged your hat down, hoping to hide how flustered you felt.

Vane was the only one sitting at the table you had shared previously. All the other crewmembers of the Ranger must have found other ways to spend their time. You preferred not to think too deeply about how they were currently occupied.

You sat on a chair across from Vane, landing heavier than expected. Your knees were trembling a bit at the performance of it all, especially knowing that Eleanor Guthrie was likely watching you. Perhaps it had been a mistake to sit down with Vane at all. Perhaps the wiser choice would have been to go to the bar or find another group to sit with.

“Want to get out of here?” Vane asked. Started from your thoughts, you took a moment to nod. “We can’t leave together. I’ll go wait by the beach. You have a drink and meet me in ten minutes.”

You made a face at the tankard he slid your direction. “Do I have to drink it?”

Vane watched you for a moment, uncomprehending, before mirth slid through his expression. “Do as you like.” For the second time that day, you watched him walk away.

The next ten minutes passed agonizingly slowly. Eleanor made another appearance in the tavern, making her way slowly from table to table. Fortunately, there seemed to be a problem with the seal at the bottom of your tankard, and you only had to fight through a few mouthfuls of rancid ale before the pewter was empty. You pretended to drain the tankard, slamming it onto the table and standing before Eleanor could reach you.

The unsteadiness of your gait probably came off like you were an inexperienced young man who had just had his first sexual encounter. You hoped so. However, the true cause was that your nerves seemed to grow taut under the attentive blue gaze of Eleanor Guthrie.

When you rounded the corner away from Guthrie’s, a weight seemed to lift from your shoulders. You had survived an encounter with Vane’s ex-lover, the woman whose presence loomed larger than any other in his past. What you had done was finished, and there was nothing left but to see if she believed the ruse.

Vane was waiting exactly where you hoped he would, and you fell into step as he led you onto one of the island’s most remote beaches. There, tucked between a collection of rocks and a small copse of palm trees, was a tent.

The canvas along the sides of the tent was tattered, leaving his belongings coated with a thick layer of sand, but the canvas above you was unmarred. It would keep out the worst of the rain, and Vane cleaned the hammock efficiently by turning it upside down and giving a hard shake. There was a crate of alcohol to be dusted off and a collection of stubby candles that begged to be freed from the sand, but nothing that needed immediate attention.

“Did she speak to you?”

Vane never gave a name, but you were not confused. He was speaking of Eleanor. There was no one else he could have meant. “No.”

“She should never have involved you,” Vane spat out, approaching closer behind you. “She and I were-”

“I know,” you interrupted. In the stunned silence, you turned to eye him in skeptical amusement. “Your crew talks, as do the islanders. I know what you were to each other, and I know how relations have changed between you. There is nothing you must explain.”

Vane was taken aback, watching you with confusion on his handsome face. Then it shifted to something darker, yet far more welcome. When he took your mouth in a hard, demanding kiss, you were ready. You gave and demanded in turn, meeting him with fervor. His hands wandered your body, noting your mussed collar, misbuttoned shirt, and too-loose belt. The belt worked in his favor, as a single firm tug dropped your trousers to the sand.

“We- We need to be careful,” you panted, scarcely managing to speak. “Anyone could run across us here.”

“Stop?” he managed, even if it was muffled against your neck.

The idea nearly drew a whine from you. “Not if we can be sure no one will see us.”

Vane stilled, holding his position for long enough that you could feel your bodies pulsing against each other. “Trust me.”

You did, completely, and allowed him to maneuver you into a different position. In the end, you found yourself on hands and knees on a blanket spread over the sand. It was a compromising position - though you still wore your shirt, the entirety of your rear end was exposed to Vane’s gaze. And other things.

The position was unfamiliar. You and Vane tended toward eye contact when you were together. It did not escape your notice that you had seen dogs and livestock coupling this way. Your face burned with humiliation at the reminder that you were nothing more than an animal. Even as you thought crossed your mind, you shifted your weight eagerly. The heat in your face was matched with heat elsewhere as your body bloomed for him.

A soft thump from behind you was your sole warning before Vane pressed himself against your exposed sex. You gasped, glancing back to find that he had unfastened his breeches only far enough to pull his cock free.

“And if- if someone sees us?” you asked.

“If they do, they’ll think I’m fucking your ass.”

The idea made your body tighten, though not entirely unpleasantly. “That is an improvement?”

“The world thinks you are a man,” Vane reminded you. “A captain fucking a crewmate… Not good, but not uncommon.”

You digested that silently, jaw dropping when Vane pressed his length along your seam. He felt much larger at that angle. “Or do you want to stop?”

You shook your head, but Vane remained still. He wanted a verbal answer. “I don’t want to stop. Please…”

Vane replied to you. He did, but it was so low and so incredibly deep that you could not begin to understand. However, the way he shifted made the head of him slip against you in a way that detailed his intentions as clearly as any words.

Some combination of the position, the kissing, and the general events of the day had left you wet and ready for him. That was lucky, since Vane sheathed himself in you, using only two long strokes to spear to your very core.

He stilled when he was fully inside of you, both of you panting. You found yourself surprised that he had stopped - you could feel the way your body was gripping him, and the strength of it was likely just this side of torture. It was the same for you. Being on your knees with him behind you allowed him far deeper than you were accustomed to, and you could hardly breathe with the intensity of it.

“Fuck,” Vane spat, and you might have been offended if he had not been throbbing so hard inside of you. It helped when he leaned forward to brush a kiss over your shoulder blade, the shifting of him inside of you took both of your breath away. “How does it feel for you?”

“I-” Your voice was so breathless that it startled you. “I need…”

You pawed uselessly at your breasts, still confined beneath your shirt and the cloth you used to contain them. The intrusion of Vane’s length was teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain, your body struggling to surface in the ocean of sensations assaulting your system.

“I know,” Vane said simply, instantly soothing you as he reached between your legs. The angle was trickier than you had expected, but he found and parted your folds with ease. Gentle upward strokes brought the liquid drenching him up to the top of your slit, and let him rub that small, sensitive pearl without irritation.

It should have felt shameful for him to hold such mastery over your body, but all you felt was relief. Vane had you writhing into the palm of his hand in only moments. The iron press of him had turned from a source of strain to a promise of pleasure, and you canted your hips backward to press him more firmly inside of yourself.

Vane choked out another curse, hips kicking helplessly toward you. His fingers convulsed against you, pressing your clit nearly to the point of pain. That sweet bite matched the pleasure-pain of him stretching you, and you moaned.

“Please,” you forced out. “Please fuck me.”

Strong fingers sank into your hips, holding you steady as Vane began to move against you. Each thrust was brutal, devastating. His length seemed to stretch impossibly far, and an eternity passed in every cycle of pulling from your body only to push back in. The collisions between your bodies shook you both, making you sway your weight on your hands. Vane’s iron grip kept you in place at first, but his goal soon shifted toward urging you into a counter-thrusting pattern.

Each of those collisions seemed to strike at the very heart of you. The head of Vane’s length delivered a glancing blow to that sweet place inside of you every few strokes, and the pleasure was so intense that you found it impossible to keep supporting your weight on your shaking arms. You scarcely managed to lower yourself onto the sand-covered blanket rather than collapse weakly onto the lean padding.

It was a pose even less dignified than your last, and yet it offered still more benefits. Your trembling arms were relieved of your weight, your lower position allowed you more leverage to spear yourself onto Vane, and - most importantly - the new angle meant that he ground against your most sensitive place with every stroke.

You found yourself hanging over the edge in only moments. You were so close to utter joy, but you needed something more. “Vane, please. Touch me.”

“I am,” he ground out.

It was a fair point. His large hands cupped against the curve of your hips, occasionally traveling upward to your waist or downward to your ass. Your breasts were doubly held away from him, by virtue of your binding cloth and the way they were pressed firmly into the sand. And the frantic closeness of your coupling denied him access to your clit.

And yet, despite all of the logical thoughts you could summon, you could only repeat, “Vane, please. I’m so close. Touch me. Please please, please.”

“You don’t know-”

“Vane!”

He slammed into you and you pushed forward, bunching the blanket in the sand. That was your first realization that he had pulled a hand from his bracing grip on your hips. There was no warning at all before the broad pad of his thumb had planted itself firmly between your cheeks, pressing down on your rear entrance.

If you had thought your position undignified, this was far more so. That was forbidden, taboo, and dishonorable. Perhaps that was why you found it so thrilling. The feeling was new and unfamiliar, but certainly compelling.

Vane dug in harder. You realized that he was holding his thumb with the tip well away from that virgin loop of muscle. He was providing pressure without the risk of truly breaching you.

Just as you were beginning to think that you would not object if he were to breach you, the combination of such overwhelming sensation combined into one glorious, blinding rush. You cried out, hoping fervently that you were alone on the remote beach. There was no other interpretation of that noise than a woman overwhelmed by pleasure.

When you locked down around him, Vane’s hands flew back to your hips. He held you as still as he could manage with your spasms, thrusting frantically into you as he bit back a litany of noises from between clenched teeth. Just as your pleasure was beginning to ebb, he pulled free and emptied himself onto the sand.

Your opinion of this new position was high, and lifted still farther when Vane did not pull himself free before collapsing onto the sand. Your rear end was pressed into the hollow between his hips and thighs, his softening length buried inside of you.

Your thoughts were drifting slowly through the empty expanse of your mind. You felt blissfully detached from your body until Vane gently brushed away a bead of sweat from your brow. You smiled, knowing he would see the expression from the curve of your cheek, and kissed his palm. You tugged his hand down then, cupping it to your still-bound breast. Vane did not seem to object to the layers of cloth between you, and settled into place with a drowsy sigh.

He dropped into sleep almost immediately, and you followed closely behind. Your last conscious thought was that you could see the waves washing onto the sunset shore of Nassau through the torn canvas of Vane’s tent. He had truly found a small patch of paradise there, and you were honored to share it with him.

---

Author's Note - In case this is your first introduction to this particular pair, just be warned that this story was written as an homage to classic "bodice ripper"-style romance novels. Accordingly, Part Two is a little violent and Part One is very dubcon. Warnings are listed on individual chapters, but I don't want anyone blindsided.

Thanks for reading!

#fanfic february #fanfic february 2024 #black sails #captain charles vane #charles vane #charles vane x reader #charles vane x you #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader insert fanfic #reader insert fic #spicy #lemon #not suitable for minors #minors dni

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holly-poly · 2 years

Text

Initial Pinch Hits

There are five initial pinch hits this year, and all of them have been sent out. Please see below for general details. More specific information can be found by clicking the links.

Pinch Hit #1 - https://groups.google.com/u/5/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/eZdLlc6pAiE Acts of Caine - Matthew Stover Caine/Ma'elkoth/Pallas Ril Fanart, Fanfiction American Assassin (2017) Annika/Mitch Rapp/Victor Fanart, Fanfiction, Fanvid Dracula - Bram Stoker (Novel 1897) Jonathan Harker/Mina Harker/Lucy Westenra (Stoker) Fanart, Fanfiction The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher Molly Carpenter/Thomas Raith/Justine, Harry Dresden/Karrin Murphy/Susan Rodriguez Fanart, Fanfiction The Hexslinger Series - Gemma Files Yancey Kloves/Ed Morrow/Chess Pargeter Fanart, Fanfiction Killer7 Coyote Smith/Dan Smith/Garcian Smith/Kaede Smith/Kevin Smith/MASK de Smith Fanart, Fanfiction Showdown in Little Tokyo (1991) Chris Kenner/Johnny Murata/Minako Okeya Fanart, Fanfiction Victor the Assassin - Tom Wood Janice Muir/Raven/Victor Fanfiction Pinch Hit #2 - https://groups.google.com/u/5/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/tgI2GAvM2cM Black Sails Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton/John Silver (Black Sails), Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton/Charles Vane (Black Sails), Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton/Madi/John Silver (Black Sails) Fanfiction Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969) Harry Longabaugh | Sundance Kid/Robert Parker | Butch Cassidy/Etta Place (BCatSK 1969) Fanfiction Marvel Cinematic Universe James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson (MCU) Fanfiction Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies) Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann/Will Turner Fanfiction Pinch Hit #3 - https://groups.google.com/u/5/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/x8kretpK5rA Cosmic Era Gundam Dearka Elsman/Shiho Hahnenfuss/Yzak Joule, Cagalli Yula Athha/Canard Pars/Kira Yamato (CE Gundam) Fanfiction The de Burghs - Deborah Simmons Nicholas de Burgh/Emery Montbard/Gerard Montbard Fanfiction Emperors SaGa Cat/Emerald/Rocbouquet/Silver Emperor Fanfiction Fire Emblem Heroes Ares/Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier (FEH) Fanfiction King of Bones - Erin A. Bisson (Novel) Vitry Girar/Ghostmoon Keshan/Miri Harfeshi Fanfiction Romancing SaGa Re;univerSe (Video Game) Noel/Rocbouquet/Wagnas Fanfiction Pinch Hit #4 - https://groups.google.com/u/5/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/_4FNq0AvRO4 Castlevania (Cartoon) Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades/Greta Fanfiction The Eagle of the Ninth - Rosemary Sutcliff Marcus Flavius Aquila/Cottia/Esca Mac Cunoval Fanfiction Hades (Video Game 2018) Hades/Nyx/Persephone (Hades Video Game) Fanfiction The Locked Tomb Series | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir John Gaius/OG Lyctors, Augustine the First/John Gaius | Necrolord Prime/Mercymorn the First Fanfiction Pinch Hit #5 - https://groups.google.com/u/5/g/holly-poly-pinchhits/c/SenxRafzHwc The Elementalists (Visual Novel) Aster D'Yew/Female Main Character (The Elementalists)/Shreya Mistry Fanfiction, Podfic Ever After Academy (Visual Novel) Nora Le Fay/Lavinia Le Guin/Female Main Character (Ever After Academy) Fanfiction, Podfic Havenfall is for Lovers (Visual Novel) Mackenzie Hunt/Main Character/Annabelle Sheppard (Havenfall is for Lovers) Fanfiction, Podfic Havenfall is for Lovers (Visual Novel) Vanessa Helsing/Mackenzie Hunt/Main Character (Havenfall is for Lovers) Fanfiction, Podfic Love & Legends (Visual Novel) Altea Bellrose/Solaire Lightwing/Main Character (Love & Legends) Fanfiction, Podfic Love & Legends (Visual Novel) Iraia Idreis/Altea Bellerose/Main Character (Love & Legends) Fanfiction, Podfic If you're interested in claiming any of these pinch hits, send an e-mail to [email protected] with your AO3 name or send a private message here on Tumblr.

Collection: https://ao3.org/collections/holly_poly_2021 Tag Set: https://archiveofourown.org/tag_sets/7906 Tumblr: https://holly-poly.tumblr.com/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/holly_poly_ex

#holly poly 2021 #pinch hits

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fangirlinsweden · 4 years

Text

September 2020

Down below I will post all the amazing fanfiction I have read during September.

1 ~ Breaking In part 2 by @wings-n-tings ❤️ Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x Reader, Supernatural

1 ~ Did you just hiss at me? by @thegirlwhorunswithwinchesters ❤️ Sam Winchester x reader, Supernatural

2 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 1 by @banditthewriter ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

3 ~ Wishing on the Wind by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel AU

4 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 8 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

5 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 2 by @banditthewriter ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

6 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 3 by @banditthewriter ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

6 ~ Game Changer Part 16 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

7 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 4 by @banditthewriter ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

7 ~ Game Changer Part 17 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

8 ~ Folklore Song Series: August by @imaginationintowords ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

8 ~ Game Changer Part 18 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

9 ~ Game Changer Part 19 by @itsanerdlife❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

9 ~ Decision by @becs-bunker ❤️ Gibbs x Reader, NCIS A stake out with Gibbs tests your patience.

9 ~ XOXO, epilogue by @buckysmischief ❤️ Scott Lang x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

9 ~ What’s Next Part 3 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

10 ~ Game Changer Part 20 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

11 ~ Game Changer Part 21-23 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

12 ~ Game Changer Part 24 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

12 ~ Who Do You Love Part 5 by @barnesjamcs ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel

12 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 9 by @kaunis-sielu❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Au

13 ~ Eye of the Hurricane Part 5 by @banditthewriter ❤️ Charles Vane x Reader, Black Sails

13 ~ Just A Reminder by @starks-hero❤️ Sherlock Holmes x Reader, BBC Sherlock

14 ~ Game Changer Part 25 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ OC!Howie Stark x OC!Becca Barnes, Marvel AU

14 ~ Just Say Yes by @ladyideal ❤️ Leonard McCoy x Reader, Star Trek

15 ~ Traditions of the Court by @propertyofpoeandbucky ❤️ Spencer Reid x Reader, Criminal Minds AU

16 ~ Secrets don’t make friends - Social Media Accounts by @buckysmischief ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

16 ~ What’s Next Part 4 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Steve Rogers x reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

17 ~ Only Yours Part-Time Part 9 By @seasaurusrrex ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

18 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 10 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

19 ~ Secrets Don’t Make Friends by @buckysmischief ❤️ Peter Parker x reader, Marvel Social Media AU

20 ~ Afternoon nap by @shewhohangsoutincemeteries ❤️ Clint Barton x reader, Marvel

21 ~ Folklore Song Series: Mad Woman by @imaginationintowords ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

21 ~ Home by @random-cavill-escapes ❤️ Captain Syverson x reader, Sand Castle

22 ~ Shattered Pieces part 1-2 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU Bucky had everything, he was sitting on top of the world. Till it all came crashing down around him, accident, after accident. He lost everything and found home at rock bottom. Till she walked into his life. She’s just as broken as him. Covered in secrets and damage. He’s only ever lost one fight, and he’d be damned if that happened again. For her, he’d go against all odds and anyone in his way. He’s coming for everything that made his world, and this time, there wasn’t a chance in hell it was crashing down on him again.

22 ~ Eternal Love part 1 by @barnesjamcs ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU Y/N lives a simple life. She has a nice studio apartment and runs a popular blog that focuses on old, rundown architecture. When she’s invited to Barnes Manor she jumps at the opportunity. Upon arrival, she’s immediately taken with the handsome heir to the manor. The only problem? He says he’s waited over a hundred years for her return. Can Bucky remind her of their history together or will he scare her away with all that nonsense he’s speaking? It is just nonsense, right?

23 ~ There You Go, Princess by @buckysmischief ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

24 ~ Shattered Pieces part 3-4 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

24 ~ What’s Next Part 5 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Bucky Barnes x reader, Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel AU

25 ~ Crazy for You by @toomanystoriessolittletime ❤️ Captain Syverson x reader, Sand Castle

25 ~ Shattered Pieces part 5 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

26 ~ Secrets Don’t Make Friends part 2 by @buckysmischief ❤️ Peter Parker x Reader, Marvel Social Media AU

27 ~ Shattered Pieces Part 6 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

28 ~ How do You Solve a Problem like Bucky Barnes part 11 by @kaunis-sielu ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

28 ~ So Happy part 1-2 by @stuckonjbbarnes ❤️ Pairing: Secret, Marvel Social Media AU

29 ~ Eternal Love Part 2 by @barnesjamcs ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

29 ~ Hungry Eyes by @jbbarnesandnoble ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

30 ~ So Happy part 3 by @stuckonjbbarnes ❤️ Pairing: Secret, Marvel Social Media AU ¨

30 ~ Shattered Pieces Part 7 by @itsanerdlife ❤️ Bucky Barnes x Reader, Marvel AU

30 ~ The Lockscreen by @stuckonjbbarnes ❤️ Steve Rogers x Reader, Marvel AU

30 ~ Shattered by @banditthewriter ❤️ Logan Delos x reader, Westworld

#366 days reblog challange January #366 Days #Reblog Challange #September #September 2020

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whenimaunicorn · 3 years

Text

The Heart of Admiration - Part 6

In which we learn how Hope and Vane spent that fateful night in that tiny room.

Prompt: 16. “everybody sees how you look at him.” Content: pining, angst, more pining, a healthy dose of denial, and certain individuals having way too much fun with the fake marriage ruse. Catch up here.

Notes: the first section had been previously posted as a preview, if it feels familiar. Keep reading, for everything that follows is new. Also, shout-out to my partner in crime for this fic, @navigatrixnarrations, the real inspiration for Hope Wickham. Words: 3767

Hope dreams she’s teetering on a great precipice, unable to pull herself back nor to find the courage to see what lies in the darkness below her feet. She wakes up to the realization that she is actually just about to fall out of bed.

She pulls herself back on the mattress, able to do no more than achieve a slightly more stable balance before hitting a solid wall behind her. A warm, toned, breathing sort of wall. Her sleeping captain had encroached upon her territory in the dead of night, and now her shoulder is jammed into his chest and he’s softly snoring into her ear.

“Move it, you lunk,” she hisses, nudging him firmly with her shoulder.

It accomplishes nothing. There’s not even a hitch in his breathing.

“You’re on—my—side,” she growls, shoving against him harder with each word, bracing her feet against the mattress and throwing her back into him.

The snoring stops with a bit of a sigh, then resumes without any further acknowledgment of her disturbance.

Hope twists her body around with a few jerky movements, and stares down the bridge of his nose. His head is sharing her pillow. Unacceptable. “Captain.” She grasps his shoulder and shakes it, tentatively at first and then more briskly. “I need more room.”

He makes some sounds, half-words not recognizable in any language that Hope is familiar with. They sound both curious and exasperated. A few more brisk shakes get Vane to shift onto his back, but he remains soundly asleep.

At least she’s not nestled between his pectorals anymore. But his immovable shoulder is still preventing her from getting comfortable without touching his body. The amount of space left in the bed would be no problem if she were inclined to embrace the man, to wrap the line of her body along the whole side of his. The thought makes her flush, both with unexpected craving and with the embarrassment that would suffuse her if her captain woke up to find his navigator spooning him.

The craving, and her exhausted need to just get a little more comfortable, win out. She lets her top leg relax until her shin falls against his; better, but not enough. She rolls forward on her hip into her favorite sleeping position, daring to stack her knee on top of his thigh. Instantly, her tight muscles relax. The move presses her belly comfortably against his waist. The warmth of him is lovely, as are the gentle waves of his breathing. A part of her cannot believe she is pressing her body against Captain Vane’s in this way, while the rest of her is just too tired to care about propriety.

Her arm would be most comfortable draped across his chest. But did Hope dare to go that far? In the square of dim moonlight cast by the small window, she finds herself inspecting her captain’s sleeping face.

She’d stopped pretending she didn’t find him handsome. Her eyes follow the strong lines of his cheekbones down to his powerful jaw. When she’d first joined his crew, she’d been nervous about his intentions toward her, but the possibility that he found her attractive had never materialized into anything troubling to her. Despite the fact that Vane was now an inert mass in the center of her bed, he had never pushed her so far as to make her truly uncomfortable. In fact, his lack of direct advances have made her wonder if she’s imagining the whole thing. It is still distinctly possible that he thinks of her simply as a trusted member of his crew, valued only for her skill.

His jawline is vexing her. The fine stubble on it, grown out through the course of the day, is practically beckoning her fingertips. It would not be at all appropriate for her to stroke him in the dark, whilst he sleeps, and yet what other chance does she have to explore the way Captain Vane makes her feel without him catching her at it?

Shoving him did not wake him up. Perhaps tickling would do the trick. She tells herself she is only reaching fingers up to his cheek in order to annoy him into waking, and that only for the purpose of rolling him over to a more reasonable share of the mattress.

There's nothing surprising about the texture of Vane’s cheek, not technically. It’s just skin and little bristles of hair. And yet something about it feels absolutely unique, infinitely fascinating to her fingertips. She feels she could enjoy doing this for hours, or conversely that this one moment of tactile pleasure is stretching out wider and more significant than any moment has any right to. How can something feel soft and rough at the same time?

Vane's breathing hitches, his great brows creasing as he seems to become aware of her touch. Hope's fingers retract as if burnt. She really shouldn't have been doing that. She no longer wants him to wake up.

With a rumbling little groan, Vane reaches his arm over and embraces her, gathering Hope against his chest and rolling into her until she is trapped with both arms curled up between their bodies.

There is nothing to do but admit defeat, and let sleep take her, cozy and warm in the arms of her captain.

~*~

He hadn’t known exactly why he said it. She’s mine. How Hope must have shuddered, listening to that. He knew she could handle herself. It just sort of came out of his mouth when he saw the way that fisherman was leering at her. But now here she is, curled up against his chest in the thin light of early morning.

He’s grateful that he woke up so gently. Oftentimes unpleasant dreams haunt him in the early hours before dawn, and he does not always awake without a fight. This time, fleeting dreams melt into awareness of a warm weight at his side, and now Vane thinks he will just never move again. Her hand is on his chest. His heart beats strong and wild just beneath her palm. He stares at the ceiling, breathing carefully, only shallowly, and hopes this moment might stretch out forever.

His arm is around her. When did that happen? She fits so perfectly right there, tucked into his shoulder. If ever he had doubts about the depths of his feelings for the woman sleeping beside him, they were surely dispelled now. This is more than just desire, more than just skin craving skin. Her trusting little body anchors him, makes him feel as if heavens and earth are all turning as they should, with this bed at their absolute center. As if everything that exists had navigated his life right to this still point right here.

When she wakes, it will be over. If only they really were husband and wife, if the story they had spun in the tavern downstairs had magically come true overnight. But Vane would not risk losing her from his ship, not just to tell her how he feels. Better to see her every day, to hear her voice carry across the deck over the ocean winds, to take the smiles and tongue-lashings she throws in equal measure, and keep his heart concealed. At this point, not even his crew would forgive him if he drove her away.

She stirs. Oh, the cruelty of that soft sound that she makes as she wakes. Vane keeps himself still and unthreatening as he feels her body tense, as she lifts her head with a start and pulls her hand away from his heart.

Her hair is mussed and lovely, a lock of it falling across her face as she blinks at him in the warming light. She looks neither angry nor confused, so his worst fears recede. She looks . . . he can’t quite put his finger on it. Distressed?

“I—” a nervous smile darts across Hope’s face. “I’m sorry.” She laughs, and pulls her body away. That’s all she does, when she awakens to find herself entangled with his limbs at the center of a benevolent universe. She laughs.

She averts her eyes. She won’t look at his face as she scrambles to sit all the way up. Carefully not letting any part of her body touch him again. What more evidence does he need that he’s right to keep his heart locked away? “Mornin’,” he growls, polite as he can. Then swivels away from her to set his feet firmly on the floor.

~*~

Somehow Hope had been sure that she’d awaken before her captain, that she would be able to pull away and hide the secret embrace she’d bestowed on him during the night. Instead, she’d found herself rousing to the face of a very much aware and awake Charles Vane. And he had just been letting her sleep on, curled up against him like that, with her palm splayed across his bare chest…

Heat rises again in her cheeks, and she keeps her back to him as they both straighten hair and clothing and prepare to look presentable enough to walk downstairs. She hopes she hadn’t made him too uncomfortable. Poor thing was probably so shocked to wake up and find her like that that he was afraid to move. Probably thought she’d yell, accuse him of impropriety, trying to sneak something while she was asleep. But Hope knows she’s the one at fault here. She was the one who had indulged secret desires, and the only one that should be feeling any shame today.

The right thing to do would be to say something. Clear the air. But what on earth is the proper etiquette for I’m sorry that I took advantage of the warmth of your body last night? I apologize for testing the waters and liking it just a bit too much.

“You must think me silly,” she says to him. She’s not really certain where she’s going with that, but it’s a start.

Charles looks up at her abruptly, shirt in hand.

He’s listening. She has to say something more. “I promise that I’m not—” she cuts herself off. It’s imperative to reassure him that he doesn’t have to worry about her attraction to him, but equally important that she not even give him the idea that’s what this is about, if such thoughts had not already occurred to him. “I want to reassure you that my feelings aren’t—"

This time she’s cut off by a loud, thumping knock at the door. Both their heads swivel at the sound. “I hear congratulations are in order,” Jack Rackham’s cheery voice calls, emanating through the wood. “I was told the ‘newlyweds’ would be found in this room.”

Hope checks that her blouse is in order, then jumps to open the door. Their quartermaster’s face looms down at her, one amused eyebrow raised expectantly. “We didn’t get married, Jack. It’s all a misunderstanding.” She steps back into the corner, trying to create enough space to allow him entry into the tiny room.

Why is Vane looking at her like that?

Jack’s eyes float to find the captain as well.

Vane is gruff. “Told the mark she was my wife.” He pulls his hair out of the collar of the shirt he just finished shrugging on. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“So we’ve made contact, then.” Pleased, Jack sweeps fully into the room.

Hope closes the door behind him, mindful that Fellows might come walking up at any moment to begin their rendezvous. “More than contact,” she confirms, intent on filling Jack in quickly before another knock comes at the door. “He’s agreed to lead us right to it.”

Jack seems distracted. “A fine bit of news.” His eyes linger on the single bed, the two pairs of boots still standing side-by-side at its foot.

Something about the way he makes eye contact with Vane, directly after looking up from the rumpled bed, irks her. Hope stalks into his line of sight and crosses her arms. “Nothing untoward happened, Jack.”

Why do his eyes keep flitting back to Vane? Jack has nothing but a nod for her statement. Why on earth would the captain’s feelings be the ones anyone would be worried about right now?

“I promise you,” she says stubbornly, “he was a perfect gentleman.”

“That's not what you called me last night,” Vane rumbles behind her.

She whirls on him. “Don’t make this worse,” she barks at the cheekiness she detects in his halfhearted smile. “The last thing you want today is an angry wife.”

“So we’re keeping up this little ruse, then?” Jack inquires. Judging by the impressive angle of his eyebrow, he's realized Vane’s feelings aren't the only ones that might require caution in this moment.

Vane’s big hand cups Hope’s elbow, guiding her in the direction of their boots. “No way around it. Our contact took a fancy to her.” He holds her eyes for a moment, measuring his next words. “Which she leveraged. Seems I've got a coquettish little wife on my hands. Fellows finds out we ain't really married, now, and the only way to keep ‘im would be to send her to his bed instead of mine.”

Jack looks, frankly, flabbergasted at every word of this report. He turns wide eyes to Hope, for confirmation of such an extremely uncharacteristic story. “What—” he stops, screwing up his face in confusion, then tries again. “How much did you have to drink last night?”

Hope scowls at him. “It was a calculated play. Got us the deal, didn't I?”

“So long as the man can get out of bed today,” Vane adds, helpfully. “We did attempt to drink him under the table by the end, there.”

Hope's memories flash to that portion of the evening, to the fire ignited in her blood by the casual grip of the hands Vane kept resting on various areas of her body, the alluring spark nestled in the laughter behind her captain’s eyes. She can admit that the tittering, maddening, absolute uncertainty of these new feelings, she still tells herself they are new, led her to drink much more than was her usual habit.

“Perhaps we had best go knock on his door,” she says, forcing her mind back to the real business at hand, “before he gets away.”

~*~

She’s not sure how on earth she hadn’t thought to expect it. Hope considers herself an intelligent woman, extremely capable of thinking a plan through, anticipating the obstacles, the contingencies, and every flavor of unexpected consequences that might come from a particular course of action. It’s what makes her a damned good pirate, after all.

And still, it hits her like a blow to the stomach, knocking all other thoughts from her head for one long, unreasonable moment.

“You’re back,” the boatswain calls, waving as she and Vane accompany Fellows up the gangplank to board the Ranger. “Welcome aboard, Captain. Welcome aboard, Mrs. Vane.”

She almost stumbles. Which is especially embarrassing because the captain had his hand on her arm, and absolutely must have felt her composure crumble at those particular words.

“And who is this that you’ve brought with you, Mrs. Vane?” Oh, Shane is having fun with this. Hope can hear the subtle emphasis he has put on the honorific this time. They sent Jack up to the ship ahead of them, to let everyone in on the need for a little subterfuge while Mr. Fellows leads them to the treasure. It seems clear now that the crew has decided to have fun with it.

She’s not going to live this one down.

“This is Mr. Fellows,” she introduces. “Please, meet Shane Rollins, our boatswain.” Hope would like to remove her hand from Captain Vane’s arm, now that they’ve attracted the attention of the crew, but his fingers have covered hers and she can’t quite bring herself to recoil. She expects to find him laughing at her when she looks up at her “husband,” but his squinted eyes are very carefully not looking at her. Perhaps there is a slight tilt to the chiseled line of his mouth. Bother. He probably finds this extra funny given the way he found her wrapped around his body this morning.

Quite a few more members of the crew are on deck than usual, watching them board. She could chalk it up to excitement over the treasure her guest was about to guide them towards, but the smiles are just a bit too sly for that, aren’t they.

And it only gets worse as they get underway. Their guide turns out to be a gregarious, amiable fellow even when hungover. He, of course, stays close by the navigator’s side, attending to his “important business” of advising their course while chatting up the various crewmen who continue to insert themselves into the conversation. And it seems that as long as Fellows is glued to her side, Captain Vane will be too. Which, while perhaps intimidating to Fellows, (perhaps), does absolutely nothing to dissuade the crewmen from attempting to fluster Hope as best they can.

“Such a handsome couple you two make.”

“I confess I did tear up just a bit at your ceremony.”

“Oh, I remember it like it was yesterday.”

“That’s because it was yesterday, wasn’t it?”

“No, yer daft, it were a week ago.”

“Ain’t they been married for months now?”

“Nah, it only feels that way, on account o’ how long they was makin’ eyes at each other before that.”

For her part, Hope mostly just stares resolutely out to sea. Despite Vane’s uncharacteristic nearness, he himself does nothing to feed into the madness either.

“I just love seeing the two o’ you so happy together. Oh, put your arm around her. Give her a kiss.”

That last one is met with the flattest stare Hope can summon. There is no way that even an actual Captain’s wife would ever put on a performance like that. “Reckon we’re close?” she asks Fellows instead.

“Oh, might be a couple more hours. Plenty of time to keep trading stories.”

~*~

Eventually she reaches her limit, right about the time Jack starts spinning his own version of their false narrative, opening with “We had never thought our Captain here would be the marrying type…” Hastily, Hope excuses herself to go put on a fresh set of clothes, before her growing frustration blows the whole charade.

But when she gets to her bunk, she finds it stripped, her few meager belongings nowhere to be seen. Did they—?

Hope fumes. There’s only one logical explanation for this, isn’t there. The crew’s been quite thorough in their commitment to establishing the ruse. She stalks back out of the lower decks.

She finds her clothes in the Captain’s quarters. Of course. Her skin prickles as she disrobes in here, even though the room is empty. To be undressed inside Vane’s private space . . . to her horror, Hope realizes the main emotion it’s filling her with is a sense of longing.

This is so inappropriate. She dresses herself as quickly as she can, then gets hung up on deciding where to set her soiled clothes. She can’t have Vane returning to his cabin and seeing her shirt and breeches flung across his bed, where she just almost forgot them in her haste to exit. The impression of casual intimacy that would leave just wouldn’t do at all. They’re dirty, so she won’t tuck them away into a drawer… She settles on draping them carefully across the chest of her belongings that the crew had so helpfully moved into this cabin. With the most innocuous bits of each garment facing forward, neatly lined up, to minimize all possibility that they might create the impression they had been flung aside by a now-naked woman.

When she’s satisfied, Hope doesn’t return to the main deck. They’ve likely moved on in conversation up there, but her renewed appearance might only drag their wicked minds back to making fun. Instead, she finds a secluded section of railing from which to hide a little longer, while contemplating the sea.

The waves are mild this morning, and the blue expanse glitters in the brightness of the sun. She wishes she had her hat, but it was missing from her bunk and she was not going back to Vane’s cabin to search out where the crew may have stowed it. Wouldn’t be right to start rifling through his things, even if no one on this boat seems to have felt shame doing it to hers.

When she had awoken, so embarrassingly nestled against her captain’s chest, she had thought it would be easy to simply carry on and ignore what had happened. The way that lying with him had made her feel. But now it seems no one is willing to let her forget it. The feel of Vane’s arms around her… she has to press her eyes closed for a moment, against the sudden rush of heady emotion threatening to disperse all reason and good sense in its wake.

She opens them at the sound of boots approaching on the deck. It’s Jack, strutting toward her with a keen, wary look in his eye.

“What.”

He lifts his palms in a gesture of harmlessness, then takes a place leaning against the rail at her side. “Just making the rounds. Ascertaining that each man is at his post.”

Hope rolls her eyes at that. “Did you disperse the crowd around Fellows, then?”

Jack fixes her with a look out of the corner of his eye. “Eventually.”

Hope sighs, and sags a little deeper as she stares out across the water. “I hadn’t expected the crew to be quite so… enamored of this idea.”

“No?”

“Sure, it’s a little funny,” she grants, “but they were like a bunch of gossiping old biddies up there. What, I wonder, set that off?”

She rounds on Jack, preparing to accuse him of stirring up the crew’s expectations. But something in his flat, serious look stops her. “You really don’t know.”

“Know what?”

Jack presses his lips together, exhaling a little huff through his nose as he chooses his words. “Darling.” He leans in a little closer. “Everybody sees how you look at him.”

Hope tries not to let her eyes widen at the splash of nerves that rush through her body. “What? How do I look at him?”

“Like the secrets of the heavens might be written under his skin.”

Next chapter here

#charles vane x oc #charles vane x ofc #black sails fanfiction #black sails fic #captain vane #the heart of admiration fic #charles vane x hope wickham

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saibh29 · 7 years

Text

Touch You

Pairings: Vane / Reader

Warnings: Violence, threats of Violence, Swearing... PG13 Smut.

Request: Maybe a Charles Vane x Pirate!Reader where they are together and the reader gets captured and beaten and Vane saves her and it's just fluffy and just filled with pissed and protective Vane? Thanks a bunch, Wolfling 🐺❄️

AN: @native-snowflake I changed up this request a little but i think the main idea is pretty much the same. I hope you enjoy.

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You hated the nights when you were forced to actually work behind the bar of the Avery. Drunken Pirates were not your favourite thing to deal with. Serving them was even less fun, yet here you were sliding and pushing through sweaty bodies as you deposited tankard after tankard of ale down on the tables.

Most of the men were used to you and simply smiled at you making jokes and as more rum was consumed giving you a friendly smack to the rear. All of which you could have dealt with, what was making you uneasy was the table in the back corner where a group of men sat quietly. Quiet in this environment was not a good sign, men who were quiet were planning something and with pirates planning never ended well for someone. You did not want that person to be you.

Grabbing a new tray and piling it with rum bottles and a few empty tankards, you unwillingly made your way over with their orders. Trying to be as unobtrusive as possible you placed the rum on the table and the tankards next to them. You thought you’d been successful until the darkest skinned one grabbed your wrist holding you in place so you couldn’t pass.

“You’re a quiet lass” he turned dark eyes on you “by chance one with good hearing?”

It took you a moment to realise that he thought you’d been trying to spy on him. You had been so busy trying to avoid them you hadn’t thought about what your silence would portray.

“I’m a bar maid, not a spy” you answered carefully, not tugging your wrist but remaining very still. A cornered piece of prey not willing to anger the predator that had its jaws around your neck.

“And a woman can never be two things at once?” he sneered fingers tightening as he pulled you a step forwards.

You were used to slapping away drunk hands and overly friendly advances. This was different though. This man wasn’t drunk but did actually want to hurt you.

“I’m sure they can. I however am not. I serve rum and make enough coin to buy a bed at night. That’s it”

He smiled revealing two gold teeth “A bed hey lass? May be that we can finish this conversation there be a trifle more pleasurable for us all hey?”

Your stomach flipped, that was not in the slightest thing what you’d wanted to hear and you had no idea how to get out of this. You finally resorted to pulling at his hold on you, which had little to no impact on him whatsoever, in fact only seemed to excite the pirate even more than he already had been.

“Y/N?” the gravelly voice behind you had never been so welcome.

“Vane!” Even though the hand didn’t move from your wrist and another person’s came down onto your shoulder you suddenly felt safer, a whole lot safer. “I didn’t realised you were back”

“Good job I am” he said yanking backwards so the grip on your wrist was finally broken. He pushed you behind him leaning down to your tormentor’s eye level. “Touch the girl again and lose your cock, understand Rielly?”

“And what is it to you Vane?” the man sneered although you could see the tick in his eye. He was putting on a brave face in front of the others at his table. Everyone knew who Charles Vane was and the sudden smile on his face would have made the bravest of men piss themselves. This Rielly wasn’t that brave and was backing away from Vane.

“Let me put it another way.” He took in every man at the table this time in his dead mans stare “the next man who even looks at her will be getting incredibly well acquainted with my sword” he stood back up patting the sword on his hip “and we enjoy meeting new people”

Suddenly no one would meet his eyes and were looking very busy again. Charles turned around steering you back to the bar with a tight grip on your shoulders.

“You can let go of me Vane” you hissed wriggling, however his grip remained as he shoved you up the stairs and pushed you roughly into your office.

You stumbled into the room rubbing at your wrist as you turned to glare at the man in the doorway.

“Really Vane” you snapped turning to anger to cover your uncomfortableness. “You don’t have to be so rough”

The pirate just stared at you “rough?” he questionnned slamming the door behind him. “You think I’m being fucking rough with you?”

“I don’t see anyone else pushing me around”

Vane nodded almost like he was agreeing with you before storming forward backing you into the desk and slamming his hands down on either side of you.

“Maybe we should go back out there and remind you of that bastard Reilly”

“I would have handled it” you insisted even though you’d got no idea how you could have delat with it “I’d have thought of something. I always do”

Charles was muttering to himself in disbelief as he shook his head at you. “Reilly’s dangerous Y/N”

“He didn’t act it towards you”

“Well they don’t do they? I have a reputation. Well earnt”

That you knew was true what you weren’t so clear on still was why exactly he was helping you. That he was fond of you you didn’t doubt, after all you provided rum and discounted rum at that. You hadn’t realised he’d go as far as actively protecting you from others though. It made you curious what he wanted. After all, nothing in this place was given freely.

“So what you’re just going to stand there and lecture me now? You think I don’t realise how dangerous they all are down there” you were staring straight back at him “how dangerous you are?”

“Sometimes I don’t think you do realise” he growled out, not backing away from you. In fact his hands left the desk to clamp onto your hips lifting as he sat you in the desk pushing his way between your thighs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing Vane?” you pushed at his chest but it was about as effective as pushing at a stone statue. He wasn’t moving.

“Teaching you a lesson”

With that his lips slammed down on your own taking your breath away as his hand came up to tangle in your hair yanking your head back to give him a better angle at your mouth.

Sure you’d thought about what it would be like to be with Vane, he was too gorgeous for your bored mind not to have wandered there at some points. You’d never actually thought that it would get any further than imaginings though.

You wriggled closer to him pressing your chest against his own as his arm wrapped around your back holding you still.

“Y/N?” the door to your office burst open once more and Eleanor stood there swearing in horror when she saw Vane.

“Fuck off Eleanor” he growled turning his head only slightly to glare at her but not letting go of you. “She’s busy”

“I can see that” Eleanor was looking at you concerned. “Rielly he was bothering you?”

“It was handled” you didn’t elaborate on how, Eleanor would have heard what Charles did from the other pirates downstairs.

“He’ll be barred for his behaviour” she was still studiously avoiding looking at Vane. “I won’t have my employees being harassed”

“Thank you” she nodded once and then with a poisonous glance at Vane disappeared once more. Leaving you still sat there with Vane between your legs. “I’m not fucking you on this desk Vane, not when she’ll still be stood out there listening”

“Figured as much” he grouched. He didn’t move but also didn’t try anything again hand instead splaying out to rest on your back. “Don’t just want a fuck off you anyhow”

“Excuse me?”

He sighed hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face, the gesture was surprisingly tender for such a rough man. “Coming in here tonight, seeing that fucker with his hands on you. Never been that angry before pet”

“Really?”

“Made me realise something” he continued eyes meeting your own. “Don’t want any other man touching you but me”

Your eyes widened in shock at that, you hadn’t thought Vane had it in him to be possessive of a woman. Sure you knew he’d had a fling with Eleanor the whole town did but you didn’t think he’d ever been serious about it. Not to a point where he wanted exclusivity.

“You going to come back down to the beach with me?”

You knew the question was loaded, knew that he was asking for more than one night. If you took the hand he was offering to you right now then you were accepting everything that came with the idea of being Vane’s woman.

“On one condition”

“And what would that be love?”

“Don’t want any other woman touching you but me” you mirrored his words from earlier.

“Deal” he said softly making him smirk and you suddenly felt like you’d just made a deal with the devil.

It was too late to back out now though because his lips came back to your own kissing you roughly as he pulled you off the desk and practically carried you from the Avery and back to the beach.

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